


Raw

by rudbeckia



Series: Random Worlds [31]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Huxloween, Implied Murder, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 23:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12467968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Armitage is at the cinema for a late night showing of one of his favourite crappy old horror films. He’s annoyed by the intrusion when another film buff sits beside him, but they get talking and soon find out they have more in common than most people would realise.AU where neither Armitage nor Kylo is quite as they seem.For the Huxloween prompt “B-Movies” and Random Word “Raw”.





	Raw

Armitage settled his angular frame into the generous seat. It had been a risk, paying for a gallery seat at the cinema, but he loved old horror movies and he reasoned that the show would probably not be busy enough for some other singleton to book the other half of his double sofa seat. A black-clad attendant brought him his complimentary snack box (the savoury one, of course) and his glass of Merlot, and he settled back to watch the corny adverts. Couples took their reserved places in the other premium sofa seats nearby, high above the standard seating area. Soon the gallery area was packed and a fanfare heralded the start of the previews. Stretching out his legs, Armitage sank into a warm smugness that he had so much space to himself.

A shaft of yellow in the gloom was accompanied by the sound of the door swooshing and an attendant quietly excuse-me-ing. Armitage scowled. Latecomers should be banned, he thought, and almost said it aloud as a large figure eclipsed his view of Q and 007 snarking at one another in a preview of the next Bond film. The attendant flashed his torch on the seat number.  
“Right here, sir. And here’s your sweet snack box. Enjoy the film.”

Armitage closed his eyes, cursed silently and scowled as the stranger collapsed into the sofa and proceeded to stretch out whilst removing his coat and rummaging through his bag. Eyes front, Armitage did his best to pretend the massive lump of a man wasn’t there.

It was not possible. Halfway through the preview of _Grimy White Dude Shoots Stuff_ his unwelcome neighbour half-turned and held out a massive paw, lit up by an on-screen explosion.  
“Hi, I’m Kylo. Nice to meet you. Want my mini doughnuts?”  
Armitage stared at the hand, a smooth palm on one side and dark hairs on the back, thickening to a kind of soft down on his arms. He looked warm. Armitage sighed and shook Kylo’s hand. He was right: Kylo’s hand felt like fire. Kylo flinched and laughed.  
“Fuck you’re freezing!”  
“Yes, but you can call me Armitage. Fine. I can trade my nachos. They’re rank. Wouldn’t feed them to my dog.”  
“Mm throw in the salsa and you’ve got a deal, handsome.”  
“Excuse me!” Armitage glared at Kylo. “Are you flirting? Because—“  
“No! Sorry.” Kylo looked away. “Maybe. I just got a feeling from you. That you’re not here to pick up girls. Guess I’m not your type, huh?”

Armitage watched Kylo’s profile for a few seconds. Long, wavy hair fell across a face Armitage would class as _interesting_ rather than handsome. He had a prominent nose, a few dark moles on pale skin and scruff on his upper lip, cheeks and chin that looked as if it would make a sparse but soft beard in another couple of weeks. Armitage resisted the urge to touch, stroke Kylo’s head and bury his face in those long waves cascading down Kylo’s neck. Kylo’s eyebrows raised and deep brown eyes that glittered in the safety lights turned to Armitage. Armitage pulled his own gaze away.  
“No. I don’t have a type and I’m only here to watch the film,” said Armitage, handing Kylo the box insert that held nachos and dip.  
“And eat doughnuts,” said Kylo, balancing his snack box in the space between them. “So, if you don’t have a type then I’m not _not_ your type either.”  
“Shut up,” said Armitage. “Film.”

It transpired that Kylo was a terrible movie companion. He had the decency to keep his voice low enough that only Armitage heard his running commentary on how the werewolf costumes were knitted by the director’s aunties and how the lighting was deliberately dim on a few of the indoor scenes because the film was so low-budget that the sets were identifiably from a national chain of DIY stores. At first irritated and snapping at Kylo to shut up, Armitage was soon sucked in to his explanations of how werewolf legends had been misinterpreted by every _other_ mainstream horror movie but _this_ one was accurate. Armitage laughed at that.  
“How can it be an accurate portrayal of a creature that doesn’t exist?” he asked quietly. “It’s like comparing _Dracula_ with _Nosferatu._ One might be better than the other but they’re both utter bollocks.”

Kylo smiled but didn’t answer. On screen, the hand-knitted werewolf leapt up, pinned the hapless hunter to a tree and clamped its rubber jaws around his throat while obvious fake blood oozed from the punctures. Armitage jumped even though he knew it was coming and Kylo wrapped a hot, heavy arm around his shoulders.  
“Look,” he whispered into Armitage’s ear. “If you can make it out in the shitty lighting you can see the fake neck is made from a badly butchered leg of pork.”

Armitage snorted. He really should sit forward, slap away the arm and tell Kylo to fuck off. But it was kind of nice to be warm. He could deal with the repercussions after the film. Kylo smelled good and he wanted to get closer. Armitage slid the snack box onto the floor and tucked his feet under himself, leaning against Kylo. He sensed Kylo’s surprise and smiled, resting his head on a broad shoulder, nose a few inches from the pale skin of Kylo’s neck.  
“Is this okay?” Armitage asked, knowing the answer already. In reply, Kylo swallowed and licked his lip then grinned, revealing a set of uneven, white teeth with pointed canines that glinted in the dark.

The film ended with the werewolf being surrounded and shot with a silver bullet. Kylo tutted.  
“Wouldn’t work any better than a normal bullet. Silver is a decent antimicrobial agent but won’t kill a werewolf unless it hits a major internal organ or something.”  
“Oh?” said Armitage. “Good against were-bacteria then. Useful to know. Same with vampires and a stake through the heart. Sure it’ll work, but it’ll work on anything with a heart.”  
Around them people shuffled, stretched, chatted and got ready to leave. The lights came on by the exits and still Kylo sat with his arm around Armitage, and Armitage watched the faint pulse point in Kylo’s neck as if mesmerised. Kylo moved first and Armitage sat up.  
“Um, do you want to go somewhere and talk more about inaccuracy in the movies?” asked Armitage, looking at Kylo and waiting for laughter. Instead, Kylo smiled.  
“Like, a bar?”  
“No, I was thinking my place. We can watch another film and—“  
“Netflix and chill?” Kylo winked and leered.  
“Believe me, Kylo, if I say I am inviting you to watch a film then that is exactly what I am offering. It’s not a euphemism.” Armitage dropped his frown and smiled. “I have the entire _Hammer House of Horror_ collection on DVD.”

They took the bus then walked through quiet streets lined with poplar trees and tall, terraced houses. On the way, they talked about popular misconceptions: vampires aren’t always cold. Werewolves aren’t driven by the moon and can change form when it suits them. Garlic only deters vampires who aren’t fond of alliums. Werewolves are not that social really. Vampires are not exclusively bloodsuckers and carbs are an essential part of a balanced diet. The back and forth continued until they reached Armitage’s house. Armitage unlocked the door and walked in, holding the door and standing aside. Kylo waited on the doorstep. Armitage rolled his eyes.

“Oh Kylo won’t you please come into my home. You mean the lamest trope is true?” Kylo looked sheepish as he stepped over the threshold. He nodded.  
“How did you know?” he said. “I was going to charm you into being my... but you... you’re not human either, are you?’  
“I could smell it a mile away,” replied Armitage a little gruffly. “One of the advantages of my condition. In here. Let’s get settled.”  
Armitage went into his living room, closed the curtains, put the lights on low and lit the fake fire. He threw Kylo the TV remote and pointed at the bookcase stacked with DVD cases.  
“Excuse me while I slip into something more comfortable,” he said. “You can too, if you want.”

Two hours later, Kylo sucked blood from his sharp teeth and wiped a smear from his mouth while Armitage lay on the rug in front of the fire and gnawed on a fresh bone. Kylo laughed.  
“Can I stroke your head? I know you’re not a pet but you’re so cute like that.” Armitage growled and Kylo backed off. “Got it. No petting on our first dinner date. It was such a good idea to order in.”


End file.
